Say It if It's Worth Savin' Me
by Kyo-chan
Summary: Riza is not about to let Roy take the easy way out.  So she'll brave the elements to go bring back her wayward Colonel. 1 of 6 in the Dead is the New Alive pre-story.


Title: Say It if It's Worth Savin' Me  
>Author: Kyo-chan<br>Series: Fullmetal Alchemist, end of the original series  
>Rating: T<br>Characters: Riza Hawkeye, Roy Mustang  
>Summary: Riza is not about to let Roy take the easy way out. So she'll brave the elements to go bring back her wayward Colonel.<br>Notes: This is the first part of a series I hope to write more in. The title is credited to Nickelback's "Savin' Me"

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The snow drifts came up to Riza's knees in some places, and some of it soaked through the stiff uniform fabric above her boots, chilling her further. Gloved hands reached up to pull the heavily lined woolen coat more tightly around her, hood threatening to cover her eyes without careful readjustment. She could only take comfort in the fact that her destination was not much further ahead, though little was comfortable about the way the wind pulled at her from nearly every direction, pelting what little of her skin that was uncovered with flecks of snow. Through the blur of white gusts, she could finally see the darker shape of a building barely bigger than a shack. At her best guess, it stood at least two miles from the nearest town, all by its lonesome in this forever-winter, and since it was the only thing out here, she had to assume this was the right place (and God help him if it wasn't).

The rickety awning over what served as the front door to the outpost was barely any sort of respite from the weather. If anything, it kept a patch of her from the abuse of the cold still blowing against her. Raising a fist, she knocked heavily on the door, wishing to be heard over the howling wind. Moments later, the door opened a crack and a single black eye blinked in obvious surprise at her, no other move made to invite her in. Sighing heavily, she reached up and pulled her scarf away from her face. The wind turned her cheeks a ruddy red in a matter of moments. "I would appreciate it," she said briskly, spine straightening so that she could give a bulky salute, "if you would let me in, Sir."

The man on the other side seemed to snap out of his melancholy shock, opening the door wider while standing aside to give her room. The slight gust of warm air from within felt wonderful, and she crossed the threshold in short, quick steps, shuddering within her coat while the wind and cold were shut out seconds later. She continued to stand there just a bit longer while feeling returned to her extremities. With that came the realization that more of her was damp than she would have preferred, fabric clinging to her skin in a cold grip. Perhaps Riza could blame the fact that she had been surrounded by fire most of her life that she distinctly hated this cold, bedraggled feeling. Central got its share of snow each winter, but she hadn't faced the harshness of Briggs, or it's surrounding precincts, since her academy days. She hadn't missed it.

Finally, the woman pushed her hood completely back, peeling her gloves off and shaking out her hands. The surface of her wool coat was soaking wet, and she already noted very little room in which to move. She didn't want to go much further, lest she drip all over the floor. "I hope you'll forgive the intrusion, Sir," she said, mostly to fill the silence. Riza didn't really care if he forgave her or not this time. she had come all this way to find him, no matter what he would think of her for it. The man still hadn't moved from his spot by the door, and she brushed past him so that she could hang her jacket on the peg next to his. "This seems to be the only effective manner of correspondence, so I would have had difficulty announcing my arrival in advance."

A small fireplace was the source of the cabin's warmth, the logs crackling quietly. That and a small window across from it provided the only light. Looking around the raw wooden confines, she found a small cot enshrouded in shadows where the firelight couldn't quite reach, a tiny table on which a tin mug and an empty bowl sat with only two chairs flanking it. The doorway near the couch probably led to the outhouse and the well tap, and aside from what immediately came to sight, nothing else adorned this place. It was a wonder her charge hadn't gone out of his mind with cabin fever here. She turned to look at him, putting her back to the fire, selfishly basking in its warmth like a cat. Roy Mustang appeared every bit as hollow as his surroundings, pale face gaunt. The stark black of his messy hair and the patch over his left eye only added to his almost eerie presence in the room. It was the first time that Riza could ever remember being unnerved by him to the point of discomfort. His posture lacked confidence, making him look shrunken and small in this space that even made her feel cramped. It was as if she laid eyes on a completely different man than the one she had sworn to follow for the rest of her life. He still hadn't spoken a word which was drastically out of character for him. The Roy she knew talked as if he never ran out of ambition or hot air. He merely watched her as if waiting for some kind of trap to spring, as if she were something to be afraid of. She was half-tempted to prove him right.

Squaring her shoulders, her fists clenched at her sides, she met his weak gaze with her own, letting all the worry and concern fuel her words. "I'm perhaps going to speak out of turn, Sir," she began, putting all her concentration into keeping her voice steady, despite the trepidation threading through every part of her. She would only have one chance at this. "I came here because someone needed to tell you to stop being selfish and come back to Central where you belong."

Riza heard his breath catch, and she took it as an invitation to continue whether it really was or not. "With all due respect, Sir, you started something. And you made good on your word to build a support system of people. Those people have risked their lives to see your goal through, and some of them didn't make it." Finally, Roy's expression started to twist, color coming to his cheeks and his mouth opening as if he would interrupt, but she couldn't stop now. "The wheels that you've started turning won't just stop because you remove yourself from the equation. In fact, you've pushed this country farther than it's gone since before you left my father's house. For you to quit now and squander your fire to just this tiny little prison, this little fireplace that you need matches to light for yourself now is one of the worst decisions you have ever made. And you made damn certain that I couldn't follow it."

"Lieutenant-"

"I'm not finished, Sir."

Roy visibly flinched. Riza's chest hurt. She directed that pain towards gentling her tone, but kept her unwavering gaze on him, keeping him pinned. "You made the choices you thought were right, and you followed through on them in spite of the cost. You of all people should know that is life's equivalent exchange. There have been mistakes, we've all made them because we're human. You're the one that told me that our imperfections are what make us beautiful. But you deny that bold claim by hiding here where you think you can't hurt anybody. We need you. Amestris needs you." She took a slow, deep breath. "I need you."

The silence hung thickly in the air when the last of her words drifted away, nearly choking her. For a heart-stopping moment, she thought she had pushed him too hard and waited to see the last of that ghost finally depart. The exhale Roy let out rattled, as if it took all his energy just to breathe. He couldn't hold her gaze anymore, and that broken connection felt like a physical blow. The man raised his hands as if he could see something on them that she couldn't, and she had her suspicions what could be going on behind his empty gaze. She acted first, closing the admittedly short distance between them, taking his hands in her own. They were ice cold and all the warmth left her body in fear. Every instinct told her that she had almost been too late, and it scared the hell out of her. "Don't!" she told him, her touch and voice startling him so much that the tremor running through him jolted her as well. "My hands have no less blood on them than yours! We did terrible things and part of the path to where we are now was tread over the backs of our fallen comrades, people we called _friends_. But what honor do we do them by backing down now? There's still time, Roy...that dream hasn't died just because we've suffered losses. You already know that there are those that got back up again and again, no matter how many times they were knocked over. You can't abandon them either. Come back to Central, take your rightful place and be the man I would give my life for, the King this country needs."

Roy looked at her. Finally looked _at _her as if truly seeing that she stood there, shivering despite the warmth of the fire. Shock, despair and self-inflicted anger were palpable, jagged edges that made fear pluck at her resolve. Was it already too late?

Roy's eye closed. He let out another trembling breath.

And smiled.

"Thank you," he whispered, distance vanishing from between them, his lips coming to rest against her forehead.

Riza closed her eyes against the sting of tears, unwilling to relinquish her hold on his hands, practically crushing them in hers. "Don't make me do it again, Sir."


End file.
